


Tomorrow Will Be Better

by Predaking



Series: Tomorrow Might Be Better [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, emeto warning, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predaking/pseuds/Predaking
Summary: (Takes place during LL25)Sometimes, many times, Thunderclash wished he could just gather Rodimus up in a big hug and hold him until he stopped hurting. But he wasn’t on that kind of grounding with Rodimus yet, in fact he was barely on any grounding. As much as Thunderclash wanted to lift Rodimus’s spirits, he was walking on eggshells.





	Tomorrow Will Be Better

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly canon compliment except they do remember Rung bc I’m not taking that in my House jro

“Good morning, Rodimus!” 

Rodimus cringed, it was too early to be greeted with such enthusiasm. That and his head was pounding, noise was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to just grab his breakfast and go back to his hab. 

He glared in the direction of the cheery captain that had welcomed him into the waking world. The harsh look didn’t falter Thunderclash’s mood any, continuing on to try and spark a conversation with Rodimus. “How are you today?”

Hm, that was a good question. Rodimus mulled over what kind of response he wanted to give. He could give the normal kind, or the kind that might get Thunderclash to back off faster. He could give the truth, or a lie that anyone with eyes could see through. 

“I wish I were dead.” Was what Rodimus finally decided on.

Thunderclash just shrugged, “Tomorrow will be better.” He declared, “Care to sit with me? I never see you anymore.”

It was on purpose, and Rodimus half wanted to snarl that out. Rodimus hid out in his habsuite for a reason, because he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to see Thunderclash or anyone. 

But it felt mean, Thunderclash had been nothing but pleasant since Rodimus’s arrival. No matter how much Rodimus snapped at him, or glared and growled, Thunderclash was always kind to him, sometimes it got overbearing. Really there was no reason for Rodimus to feel about Thunderclash like he used to, he couldn’t be jealous of someone he couldn’t possibly live up to anymore. 

So instead of mouthing off, he just sat down at the table across from Thunderclash, dirty once-gold hands wrapping around his cup of plain energon. If Thunderclash wanted to talk, he would have to lead the conversation.

Which, of course, he would. “So, what are your plans for today?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

Rodimus did the same thing every day with little to no variation. Sulk in his room until Thunderclash found something for him to do, come finish said task, return to his room, drink and repeat. End the day in a drunken stupor, and pray not to black out before he reached his berth. 

Thunderclash asked because he knew this routine, and he hoped that he could offer something for Rodimus to do to make his day a little less dreary, even by a small bit.

Thunderclash worried, a lot. Even when he wasn’t in the direct vicinity of Rodimus, he was worrying about him. Thunderclash had offered Rodimus a place on the Exitus in hopes maybe he would feel like he was reliving his former glory. But he was just miserable, broken. 

Sometimes, many times, Thunderclash wished he could just gather Rodimus up in a big hug and hold him until he stopped hurting. But he wasn’t on that kind of grounding with Rodimus yet, in fact he was barely on any grounding. As much as Thunderclash wanted to lift Rodimus’s spirits, he was walking on eggshells. He had to be careful to make it not seem like he was paying the ex-captain any special attention. A wrong move meant Rodimus would catch on, and knowing him he’d throw a fit about not needing anyone’s pity. And then he might just leave the ship, since Thunderclash invited him in the first place. And then Thunderclash wouldn’t know what to do. 

“Ratchet died.”

Thunderclash snapped back to the present as Rodimus finally answered the question. 

“I’m attending his funeral.” Rodimus continued, twirling his straw around in his cube.

“Oh...oh, Rodimus, I’m so sorry.” Thunderclash breathed, his hand twitched, and then he aborted the movement to cup it over the smaller one laid out on the table. 

“A lot of the old crew is going, so I’ve been told. Honestly don’t know how I’m going to be able to face any of them again.” He gestured to his face, and forced a grin. “This ugly mug has seen better days.”

Thunderclash didn’t think he’d ever heard Rodimus call himself ugly before.

“Well, I’m sure you could clean up some before you leave, I can see if-“

“It’s a joke, Thunders.” Rodimus interrupted before he went on too long. “It’s not that big of a deal, I got worse to worry about than looking like shit.”

Thunderclash pursed his lips, but then just nodded. Letting them fall into awkward silence for a long time. Thunderclash had already finished his morning rations, while Rodimus barely had any of his. Rodimus hadn’t noticed yet that Thunderclash had no real reason to stick around. Thunderclash also made a mental note to make sure Rodimus ate something later.

“It should’ve been me.”

The sudden statement startled Thunderclash, looking up from Rodimus’s full cup. “What?”

“I should be the one six feet under right now, not Ratchet.” Rodimus clarified. “Ratchet had it made, friends, a conjunx, a job. He had everything going for him, and he gets the axe.” He laughed drily, “He gets the axe, and I get to sit here. A miserable sack of shit, a washed up has been. I get to keep going, it’s not fair.”

Thunderclash frowned deeply. Rodimus talking about wanting to die was, unfortunately, a thing he had gotten used to. But this was a little new, it was like Rodimus was jealous of Ratchet for being dead.

“Oh, Roddy…” Thunderclash breathed, before stopping himself. “Rodimus, is that what Ratchet would want to hear you say?”

“Nope. But the old man isn’t around to hear it anymore, now is he?” Rodimus snarled, finally giving up on forcing down fuel and pushing the cup away. His tanks were churning too much to even pretend he could eat right now.

Thunderclash struggled to try and lighten the mood. Something topical, perhaps?

“Maybe not, I feel like he’s screaming at you from the afterspark though.” Thunderclash smiled a little, “He knows Primus personally, I’m sure he’s trying to pull strings with Rung right now to come down here and smack some sense into you.”

Not even a hint of a smile, Thunderclash’s own grin faltered.

“Mm…” Rodimus mumbled. “I gotta get ready to leave.”

He stood, unhooked a flask from his hip, and took a long swig. Too sick to eat his morning rations, but not too sick to chug down liquor.

Rodimus noticed Thunderclash was staring, pulling the flask away from his lips. “Oh don’t give me that look, it’s just so I don’t get nervous.”

Thunderclash nodded along.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“I didn’t say anything, Rodimus.” Thunderclash spoke up before Rodimus could back himself into a corner even more. “I do think you should get someone to come with you though, if you’re that nervous.”

_ ‘I think you should get a designated driver’ _ is what Thunderclash meant, but Rodimus didn’t seem to pick up on the undertones.

“Mm…” he repeated, “There’s that Lunarian guy, name escapees me, that’s ridden with me a couple times before. I’ll ask him about it.”

And with that, Rodimus left without another word, leaving Thunderclash alone with his thoughts. Jokes about the dear departed, not a good way to cheer someone up.

* * *

 

It was a small gesture, one Rodimus probably wouldn’t think twice about, but as soon as Thunderclash had gotten the call he was heading home, he went straight to the ship bay to wait for his pod to return. 

The Lunarian chauffeur got out before Rodimus did, wearing a grimace on his face. He shook his head solemnly at Thunderclash, making a beeline to exit the docks. Something must have happened.

A sickly groan pulled Thunderclash’s attention back to Rodimus, patiently waiting for the speedster to climb out of the pod. After taking much longer than anyone should need to figure out how to stand up, Rodimus’s hand gripped tightly to the edge of the door, pulling himself up and leaning against it so he wouldn’t keel over.

“Welcome back, Rodimus! How was the trip?” Thunderclash realized that wasn’t the best thing to ask of someone who just came home from a funeral, but he was trying. 

Rodimus was staring at the floor, the hand not being used to steady him wrapped around his stomach. He looked up at Thunderclash when he started talking, with the saddest, most defeated look on his face. He had tell-tale sickly green chunks dripping down his chin and onto his chest. He’d made a detour coming home. 

Rodimus burped suddenly, and the hand that had been holding him steady rushed to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t be sick again. Rodimus’s tanks couldn’t handle Nightmare Fuel very well, but that didn’t stop him from drinking it. 

“‘M’ nah drunk.” Rodimus slurred, without prompt, “Mosion sickness…”

Thunderclash nodded, “Of course, I heard it was a bumpy ride,” Out of politeness, he went along with Rodimus’s obvious lie. “I need to clean out the pods later, anyway, don’t worry too much about it.” 

Rodimus went to pull his other leg out of the pod, and it was enough to send him tumbling forward. Thunderclash managed to catch him before he ate the pavement, hoisting Rodimus back upright.

“Whoa there! Must’ve been a  _ really _ bumpy ride!” Thunderclash laughed, patting Rodimus’s shoulder lightly. 

Fresh streaks of vomit dribbled down Rodimus’s chin from being moved so sharply, Thunderclash’s smile faded.

“You should go wash up, do you want me to help you to the washracks? You seem pretty dizzy.”

Rodimus took way too long to respond, “S’fine…” he hiccuped, “Can ya...take me to my hab...m’tirreedd.”

“Of course! It’s the least I can do, you’ve had a pretty rough day.” Thunderclash wrapped an arm around Rodimus’s shoulders, keeping him steady while he lead him out of the ship bay. “But hey, tomorrow will be better.”

* * *

 

The walk was pretty uneventful, Thunderclash tried to desperately ignore the congealing vomit marking Rodimus’s front. Rodimus refused to shower now, and Thunderclash could already tell he was going to wake up miserable. Having to clean caked on puke wasn’t going to help his mood any.

“So, how are the others doing?” Thunderclash said to break the silence. Honestly to distract himself more than anything.

Rodimus was silent for a very long time, “Drif’sa pries’ now.”

Thunderclash huddled Rodimus a little closer to himself to avoid the stare of someone in the hallway while he turned a corner, nobody needed to see Rodimus like this.

“Oh, good for him! You should attend one of his sermons, I’m sure he’d love that.” Thunderclash knew Rodimus wasn’t very religious, if at all, but he hoped he would take to the idea. The prospect of seeing Drift might motivate him to do something other than sulk.

Rodimus giggled, “Hehe..thass funny. M’ a mess, he’d kick me out for disruptin’...never talk t’me again.”

Thunderclash frowned. “No he wouldn’t, Drift loves you a lot, Roddy.”

Rodimus’s giggle turned into a full-on cackle, Thunderclash freezing in concern when he clutched at his abdominal plating again. But he didn’t throw up, just laughed a harsh, hollow noise. It took him a minute to calm down, grinning despite not being happy.

“Thass funny, real funny.” He finally said, before slumping back against Thunderclash’s side. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

As soon as the door to Rodimus’s hab came into view, he started to push Thunderclash away from him. Not even saying thank you before keying in the door code and staggering in.

“M’Kay, y’can go now. Byeee.” Rodimus waved a hand at his escort, trying to shoo him away.

Not wanting to upset him more, Thunderclash nodded in acknowledgment. “Get some rest, Rod. Tomorrow will be better.”

Rodimus rolled his eyes, “Yea...sure.” The button to close the door was clicked, and it slammed shut in Thunderclash’s face.

* * *

 

Thunderclash didn’t usually visit the on board bar, it didn’t do much for him. It wasn’t a social hotspot like Swerve’s had been, and he didn’t actually like the taste of engex that much. But someone had left an anonymous tip, bringing up a concern about a certain speedster, so Thunderclash decided to drop in.

Not surprisingly, Rodimus was slumped over the bar counter. The blue mech that ran the place was paying him special attention, he was his best customer, after all.

Thunderclash took a seat next to him. Rodimus rolled his head out of the crook of his arm to look and see who it was, groaned, and then buried his face again.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Thunderclash said, playing dumb as usual. “I thought you were in bed?”

“Couldn’t fall asleep.” Rodimus said, his words much less slurred than earlier. “I’m feeling better now, wanted to do something more than sit in my room feeling sorry for myself.”

Thunderclash covered the side of his face while Rodimus wasn’t looking, mouthing to the bartender “Cut him off”. The bartender grimaced, knowing he was losing revenue, but he nodded regardless, moving away so he wasn’t hovering near Rodimus anymore.

The other thing Swerve’s had over this place, Swerve had some sense of compassion over profit. Even for his “best customers”.

“It’s good to get out sometimes.” Thunderclash agreed, though he didn’t know if visiting the same place he did every day counted as “getting out”. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Mm…” Rodimus pushed himself up, oh good, he’d cleaned the puke off his face. “Not by much.”

Thunderclash nodded. “Something is better than nothing.”

Rodimus shrugged, “Still feel like shit.” He sighed. “Just was thinking, the last time I saw Ratchet was oh...300? 500 years ago?” He snorted, “Some friend I am, and leaving Drift like that.”

“I’m sure Drift doesn’t hate you.” Thunderclash said, “Everyone is hurting.”

“I don’t deserve to be like this.”

Thunderclash was pleasantly surprised at the statement. That’s the spirit! Rodimus was finally seeing he should pick up the pieces, try and move on, look forward to-

“I don’t deserve to be this upset, haven’t seen the mech in years. You think Drift’s sobbing at a bar right now? Nope.”

Ah, he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Ratchet meant a lot to you, just because you didn’t keep in touch very well doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to mourn.”

“It still should’ve been me, nobody’s gonna miss me.”

A simple “that’s not true” statement would get them nowhere, so Thunderclash had to think for a moment on how to reply to that. Jokes didn’t help, so he’d learned, maybe a new tactic. 

“I think when you work in a field like that for as long as Ratchet did, you kind of have to accept your own morality.” Thunderclash started, “You see so many people die every day, you aren’t as afraid of the fact that one day that’s going to be you. I think that’s why he was the one to go, not you. He knew what was coming for centuries, so he lived his life as full as he could so he wouldn’t have any regrets when it came. I think he did well.”

Rodimus refused to meet Thunderclash’s gaze. “And what does that have to do with me? I’m not some renowned medic or a loving conjunx, or, anything really. I’m a washed up has-been, a Prime past his prime. I had my life fulfilling stuff or whatever.”

“So was Ratchet,” Thunderclash shrugged, “He’d been ready to retire for a while. He just didn’t because he was still needed, he kept going though, kept living.”

Rodimus smothered his face in his hand, his frame shaking as he tried to force back tears.

“I like to think Rung knows what he’s doing, “ Thunderclash finished, “I think he chose Ratchet instead of you for a reason. As much as you say you are, you’re not really ready to die yet.”

When Rodimus choked on a sob, Thunderclash worried he’d just made it worse. Inspirational story telling, maybe also not a good thing to cheer Rodimus up. At least he was narrowing down his options.

Thunderclash sighed, patting Rodimus on the back before standing up. “Hey, I’m serious when I say I think you should go to one of Drift’s sermons. I think you two would have a lot to talk about, he can help you.”

And with that, he decided it was time to leave. Rodimus would go back to his hab soon enough now that he’d been cut off, it eased Thunderclash’s worries just some.

Rodimus grabbed the neck of the bottle he hadn’t finished yet, pressing fingers into the corners of his eyes to stop the tear flow. He quickly chugged down the remnants of the drink, choking some from drinking too fast. He just wanted so  _ so  _ badly to forget.

But, tomorrow would be better, he guessed.  
  



End file.
